


Teach it Fear.

by grandiloquently



Category: IT (2017), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Everything Happens in the Same Timeline, Gen, Implied Pairings, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kids Kicking Ass, Movie and Book Details Overlap, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stranger Things Season 2 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-01-26 20:24:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12565476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandiloquently/pseuds/grandiloquently
Summary: After the defeat of their own demons, two brothers come to the realization that shit's a lot weirder than they ever could have imagined.(No longer being updated as of February 7th, 2018)





	1. I—MIKE

Dinner was as it always was, few words and even fewer exchanged looks. His father had made a few comments about something he had seen at work that day, to which his mother gave a strained half-smile back. Nancy was quiet, too—Mike just figured it was something with Jonathan, though, they didn’t fight much, if at all. Holly… was Holly.

When he dug into his blob of mashed potatoes, Mike glanced up to his mother, who had already been looking at him, as she had throughout the entirety of dinner, never speaking. The look on her face was hard to tell, mostly of discomfort, or something along the lines of that. With another forced smile from her, Mike nearly threw his fork down onto his plate.

“God!—Stop looking at me like that!” Mike snapped, voice louder than intended. His father’s subsequent _look_ would have made him sink back into his chair.

His parents exchanged a glance, and his mother spoke first. “I’m sorry, Michael,” she said. “There’s just… something your father and I have been meaning to tell you.”

Still frustrated, Mike sat up a bit, arms crossed over his chest.

“Nancy, would you take Holly to her room?” His father addressed his eldest, brows raising slightly.

Blinking several times, Nancy bobbed her head in a nod. “Yeah, I… Why?”

“Just do it.” He murmured, motioning with his hand for her to go.

Doing as she was told, Nancy quickly rounded the table to pick up Holly, whom of which tried to protest. When they were out of the room, Mike looked around with a furrowed brow, before locking eyes with his father. “What’s going on?”

There was a long silence as his parents fiddled in their seats, probably trying to figure out a way to say whatever they were going to say. When his mother was going to open her mouth, his father cut her off abruptly.

“You’re adopted.”

With that, Mike’s previous face of frustration fell, replaced with… a mask, of so many different emotions that he couldn’t even count them on two hands, if he tried. His first response was to say ‘what,’ but he only managed to mouth it halfway before his father spoke again.

“I’m sorry to tell you this so late, son.” He spoke heavily, with a sigh.

Mike’s ears rang dully, filling the impossible silence between sentences. It was his mother’s turn to speak.

“You… you have a brother, Michael. His mother—his _adoptive_ mother—wants to arrange a meeting between the two of you.”

He could only star forward, in the space between his parent’s heads, processing the information. Everything he knew about himself, about his family; it was all a lie, everything about it. Nancy, Holly, they weren’t his real sisters and his parents, they weren’t—

His father’s words attempted to slash through his thoughts, to bring him back into reality, but Mike couldn’t find himself. _Maine_ , he recognized one of the many words, but didn’t acknowledge it as he stood up. The words stopped, only briefly though, soon replaced with “What are you doing?”

Mike’s feet took him to the entrance of his room, and as he did so, he ignored his mother and father’s attempts to draw him back to the dining room.


	2. II—RICHIE.

“Thank you so much, Karen. I’ll talk to you later.”

Pressing his lips together, Richie poked his head around the corner of the hallway just in time to see his mother place the phone back on the receiver. Curiosity had taken him and he made his presence known, clearing his throat inconspicuously. His mother snapped her head toward the sound, surprised, and Richie quickly realized that he was not very sneaky.

“How did it go?” he asked, stepping forward with his hands folded behind his back, innocent-like.

“She said they’ll be up next Friday.” She responded, dropping the tone she had used to speak on the phone. What was once articulate became slightly slurred, the haze of the few drinks she had taken obvious on her voice. His mother was good at that—masking her buzz, if she was only a couple in. “Michael didn’t take it as good as you did.”

“That’s because you told me a while ago.” Richie pointed out.

His mother shrugged, sitting down heavily at their dining table, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in front of her with an almost full ash tray. She took a long drag of a barely lit cigarette before speaking again, “Glad I did.”

Unsure of how to respond, Richie simply turned around so that he could return to his bedroom. When he got only a foot or two away, his mother called out, “Rich? I want the place cleaned before then. Understand?”

He groaned, loudly, obnoxiously so. “But—”

“No buts,” she snapped. “And I want this house spotless.”

Under his breath, Richie hissed a soft ‘fucking bullshit,’ before continuing onto his room.


	3. III—MIKE.

****

The radio had gone out nearly seven miles back.

It was about a week after the incident, and Mike hadn’t slept well since. His thoughts were all over the place, unable to sort themselves out—who were his real parents? What happened to make them give up not only him, but another kid? How in the hell did one end up in Indiana and the other in Maine? _Maine_ , for fuck’s sake!

Nancy tried to tell him that nothing needed to be different, that Holly and her were still his sisters. He tried hard to understand that, to come to terms with that, but he simply couldn’t. There could be an entire family out there that could miss him, that he didn’t even know existed for the past fourteen years! He could have more siblings, aunts, uncles, grandparents—

“Mike? Can you hand me the map?” His mother’s voice rang into his ears, and he absently did as she asked, staring at nothing.

She said a quiet ‘thank you,’ before looking to Nancy, whom of which she exchanged worried glances with, but neither of them said a word.

Mike’s attention became directed at the window as he watched hundreds of trees pass by quicker than he could count.


	4. IV—MIKE

When Mike opened his eyes, he was greeted by the unfamiliar sight of trees that he couldn’t name.

Nancy was asleep next to him, head heavily resting against the window, Walkman in her lap. For a split second he wondered where Holly was, before remembering that his parents sent her off to stay with an aunt who lived a few miles out of Hawkins. Sighing, Mike sat up straight to peer around.

It was dark outside, heavily so, the only lights being the ones on the front of the car.

A sign passed his sight, and though Mike couldn’t make out what was on it, the audible sound of relief from the driver’s seat gave him a sense of where they were. Derry, Maine.

He and his father seemed to be the only ones awake, so he kept his voice low so that he didn’t wake his mother or sister. “Are we here?”

His father nodded once, exhaustion evident. He _had_ been driving all day, so Mike didn’t blame him.

As they drove, the outlines of buildings became clearer. Residential areas, and one larger space of the town; God, this place was tiny. He squinted to try and look at various storefronts, just to see what they had, to try and get an idea of what his brother has had to deal with all these years—

Wait, _what the fuck_?

Out of the corner of his eye, Mike could have sworn he saw someone standing stock still at the corner of two streets. It wasn’t any someone, though, they were wearing an unusual suit of some sort, and their hair… their hair was a bright, almost fluorescent orange, even in the dark. Blinking several times, Mike tried to crane his head backwards, toward the figure, to get a better look—but they were too far gone.

“Dad, did you see that?” Mike questioned, a hushed tone over his voice still.

“See what?” His father glanced back at him through the rear-view mirror.

“The clown.”

“No, I didn’t.” He murmured. “I think you’re a bit too tired.”

Double taking once more (for good measure), Mike tried to shake off the image of the strangely still clown. Maybe he was tired, and his mind was trying to do tricks on him.

Maybe.


	5. V—RICHIE

He was woken up by his mother at eight in the morning.

It took him only a few minutes to get ready, and Richie was glad that his mother said he could wear anything he wanted tomorrow. (“I don’t care.”) Less time to get ready would yield more time to really think about what he was going to say—he had spent a good chunk of the previous night trying to figure it out, but he didn’t get very far.

_Hey, I’m your twin brother and I’ve known about you for longer than you’ve known about me!_

_Hi, Mike! You have the same name as one of my other friends!_

_What do you say we blow this joint and never speak to each other again?_

Infuriating. He couldn’t ever think of the right words, and he definitely didn’t want to make a fool out of himself, God! That would be the _worst_! It wasn’t that he didn’t want to meet Mike, of course he wanted to meet him, but this was going to be terrible. His mother already smelled of alcohol, and he wasn’t sure how much she had. He also had no idea what Mike’s parents were like, or what his older sister was like. Were they assholes? What if Mike was an asshole?

Groaning, Richie got to his feet so that he could get to the kitchen. Food was made before he’d woken up, and there was enough that he could spend his sweet time eating to pass the time rather than sitting and doing nothing for the hour to wait. They were all going to meet up at a nearby park, and for how long, he wasn’t sure.

“Rich,” his mother called from the living room. “Time to go.”

A wave of anxiety rode over his body as he followed her out the door.

This was it, and there was no way he was going to stop it.


	6. VI—MIKE

The sun was too bright, and he hated it.

His mother assured him that it was nice outside, but he couldn’t really agree. With his stomach in knots, he couldn’t really find himself enjoying things he would have enjoyed on normal days. Nancy sat beside him on the bench next to the one his parents sat on, his mother reading a book between a conversation with his father. His sister had tried to talk to him a few times, but he didn’t respond, hands balled up in fists sitting atop his knees.

“Is that her?” He heard his father question, raising hand to point in the direction of a car pulling up.

“I think it is,” his mother remarked without looking up from her book.

A surge of nerves hit Mike so hard that he sat up, straight as a ruler. Nancy placed a hand on his back, visibly worried as she watched the car’s doors open and two figures emerge. A woman, and a young boy, who looked just like her brother next to her.

They approached almost separately, the woman smiling dumbly. “Karen!” She exclaimed, and Mike watched as she embraced his mother.

Behind her, stood who he assumed was Richie. No, it wasn’t an assumption—it was fact. He had the same pronounced nose as Mike, the same curled black hair, and even a set of matching freckles. Nancy looked between the two, almost nudging Mike in a way to encourage him to speak.

The woman turned toward him before he could do anything, though, “You must be Mike.” Her voice was strange, a happy tone, but the lack of articulation in her syllables confused him.

“Richie,” she turned behind her to take a hold of her son’s arm, bringing him forward. “This is Mike. Mike, Richie.”

They stared at each other for a long time, bug-eyed and mouths agape. Now that they had a good look at each other, an emotion other than nervous rang in the both of their minds. Memories, vague, but still there—flashed behind Mike’s eyes, and he stood, only inches away from his brother. Sadness first, then happiness, intense and thrumming through his veins, taking a hold of his senses. Tears came to his eyes.

Without words, he hugged Richie, who stood still for many moments before returning the embrace.


	7. quick update!

hey y'all!

i'm sorry about the lack of updates, i've been busy with work and school so i haven't had much of a chance to write. but, rest assured, an update will be coming soon! i feel terribly about disappearing for so long, so have a bit of a preview of the next chapter, which will be a longer one.

~*~

Being afraid of the dark was never a fear that sat in Mike’s foremind.

But as he lied in the pullout bed—which was uncomfortable to all hell—staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t help but feel antsy. Things moved in the dark, and he knew it was his mind, it was always like this _. Not a Demogorgon_ , he told himself. _No, it’s something else._

Nancy slept in the other bed, his parents in another, almost like the dead. When he sat up, he didn’t have much caution in making noise, the sheets of the comforter rustling. Some water would help.

As he moved to the bathroom, Mike froze in his place.

There was laughter from the bathroom, low and predatory. He double took to the beds, expecting to see his family, but was greeted with emptiness. When he looked back forward, his vision was greeted with a face of ghastly white makeup peeling like paint, red close to blood streaking cheeks, and a hellish grin spread across it’s lips.

 


	8. VII

The rest of the day went by in convoluted awkwardness, the brothers attempting to talk to each other. They’d been carted off, away from their families, to have some time alone without the prying eyes of their mothers. Of course, this meant only being out of earshot—nothing stopped the rest of the family to shoot the occasional glance at the twins, worry taut on their lips and their brows drawn together in concern.

Nancy hadn’t been listening to the conversation her mother was having with Richie’s (her name was Maggie? She couldn’t really be bothered to remember). She would rather have been not there, as the conversation didn’t involve her at all. It was boring, and she wished that Holly had been brought along; at least she could have been playing with her. Eyes dancing around the small park, she quietly observed the various sights.

Mike and Richie. They sat cross-legged in the grass, at the other end of the lot, Richie pulling at the green below his legs, tossing it shortly in front of him. Mike was looking at the ground, lips moving, saying something that she couldn’t make out. There was a tree next to them, bent in several directions, weather worn.

She stopped staring at them, and decided to train her sight on other things. Flower bushes were peppered throughout the place, with varied daisies, lavender, and other pretty things she swore she knew the name to. Sitting forward a bit, resting her elbows on her knees, Nancy took another sweep.

There weren’t others in the park, surprisingly enough. She knew Derry was a quiet town, but this was borderline ridiculous. Didn’t anyone take their kids out? It was such a nice morning, the sun breaking through the shade of the trees in gentle beams, wind blowing vaguely in the background, making the heat bearable.

When she glanced back up from looking at her very interesting lap, she froze in her seat.

In the shrubbery behind Mike and Richie, she saw a vague figure. Tall, gangly… Nancy squinted, leaning forward a bit to get a better look. It was easy to see in the greenery, whatever it was wearing was a stark grey, and the hair a bright orange. Danger prickled at the tips of Nancy’s fingers, and without a thought, she stood up, already moving in the direction of the two boys.

“Nance?” Her father’s voice rang in the back of her head, distant.

As she drew closer, Nancy directed her attention away from the thing to look at Mike—who mouthed a “what?” as she approached them. When she glanced back up, the thing was much closer, grinning—if it had a mouth, it could be considered a smile. The place where a lower jaw would be was gone, replaced with a mess of tongue and blood and _teeth_ , Nancy couldn’t register the yelp that tore from her throat even as it happened.

“Are you okay?” Mike had stood up, taking a good grip on her arm. “Nancy?”

She looked down at him, tears building in the brim of her eyes, before snapping back to where it was.

There was nothing there.

“I—Mike, did you? There was something behind you guys and—”

Richie, who had stood up only a brief moment after Mike, looked behind them frantically, as if he was expecting something terrible. He blinked several times, gaze landing on Nancy.

“What did you see?”

“I don’t—I don’t know how to explain it,” Nancy used the back of her sleeve to wipe away the wetness on her cheeks. “There was this _thing_ with no jaw, it—it almost looked like a clown, and it was watching you—”

The brothers looked at each other, mirroring looks of concern.

Richie spoke first, voice almost shaking. “That’s dumb as shit. No jaw? How did we not see it?”

“I’m not lying!” Nancy snapped.

“Riiight.” Richie scoffed. “How do I know you weren’t just trying to scare us?”

“Why would I—”

“Nancy,” Mike interjected. “It’s fine. I think the heat’s getting to you, since you’re wearing a sweater and all—”

“Are you kidding me, asshole? I’m _not_ lying!” She was exasperated by now, pulling her arm away from Mike’s grasp.

She looked between the brothers, who looked unconvinced. Frustrated, Nancy let out a noise, a grunt of anger, throwing her hands in the air.

“Is everything alright over here?” Her father had come up behind them.

“We’re fine, Mr. Wheeler. Nancy’s just having an aneurysm over nothing.” Richie spoke in a dismissive tone, now, waving a hand.

“You little shit!” Nancy was in disbelief, shooting a look of contempt at the boy.

“Language, please.” Her father murmured. “C’mon, Nancy. Leave them be.”

She looked between them all, brows raised and offense taking her features. It took her a long moment before she said, “Fine, whatever.”

With that, Nancy turned on her heel, walking away briskly. Her father offered an apologetic look to the two boys, before following after. Once he was far enough away, Richie deflated, letting out a long sigh.

“Well, that’s fucked.”

“You don’t say?” Mike responded, snide.

“Listen, man, that’s one helluva hallucination.” Richie pointed out. “Does she normally see shit like that?”

“Normally? No. She’s never…”

Richie had gone white in the face.

“Are you okay?” Mike questioned.

“What did she say it looked like?”

“I don’t… I don’t remember? Something like a clown, no jaw, stupid shit like that.”

“ _God damn it_!” Richie yelled, taking off across the park.

Mike watched in confusion as his brother ran, before he followed after, feet acting on their own accord. “Where are you going?!” He tried to call after him.

Richie didn’t respond. Rather, he kept his pace.

The best bet Mike had now, was to keep after him. He didn’t pay attention to the sound of his mother’s voice behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all! i've been dead for the past few weeks bc of school and stuff, and i scrapped the idea i had for this chapter in favor of something a bit different, and a bit longer.
> 
> i hope you all enjoy!


	9. UPDATE: 02072018

hello, everyone!

today i am sad to announce that i will be no longer updating this fic; as i've lost the muse to continue doing so. but i will be keeping it up and readable for those that enjoyed the first few chapters. 

i appreciate every single one of you who read, commented, or left kudos on this fic. it meant (and still means!) the world to me that you enjoyed my writing, but i simply can't continue it.

thank you for your continued support!


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